It was not an observation that called for an immediate reply; certainly one could hardly contradict it. So Mma Ramotswe merely nodded, glancing at Mma Makutsi and taking in the bright red dress—a dress which she had not seen before. It was very fetching, she thought, even if a bit too formal for their modest office; after all, new clothes, grand clothes, can show just how shabby one’s filing cabinets are. When she had first come to work for Mma Ramotswe, Mma Makutsi had possessed only a few dresses, two of which were blue and the others of a faded colour between green and yellow. With the success of her part-time typing school for men, she had been able to afford rather more, and now, following her engagement to Phuti Radiphuti, her wardrobe had expanded even further.

“Your dress, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe. “It’s very smart. That colour suits you well. You are a person who can wear red. I have always thought that.”

Mma Makutsi beamed with pleasure. She was not used to compliments on her appearance; that difficult skin, those too-large glasses—these made such remarks only too rare. “Thank you, Mma,” she said. “I am very pleased with it.” She paused. “You could wear red too, you know.”

Mma Ramotswe thought: Of course I can wear red. But she did not say this, and simply said instead, “Thank you, Mma.”

There was a silence. Mma Ramotswe was wondering where the money for the dress came from, and whether it had been bought during that unauthorised absence from work. She thought that she might know the answer to the first question: Phuti Radiphuti was obviously giving Mma Makutsi money, which was quite proper, as he was her fiancé, and that was part of the point of having a fiancé. And as for the second question, well, she would be able to find that out readily enough. Mma Ramotswe strongly believed that the simplest way to obtain information was to ask directly. This technique had stood her in good stead in the course of countless enquiries. People were usually willing to tell you things if asked, and many people moreover were prepared to do so even if unasked.

“I always find it so hard to make up my mind when I’m choosing clothes,” said Mma Ramotswe. “That’s why Saturday is such a good time for clothes-shopping. You have the time then, don’t you? Unlike a working day. There’s never time for much shopping on a work day, don’t you find, Mma Makutsi?”

If Mma Makutsi hesitated, it was only for a moment. Then she said, “No, there isn’t. That’s why I sometimes think that it would be nice not to have to work. Then you could go to the shops whenever you wanted.”